Snake's Tongue
by ArwenJaneLilyLyra
Summary: Olympias will stop at nothing to keep Hephaestion from getting in the way...a narration of a particular struggle of Hephaestion and Alexander's as they fight to remain true to their hearts.
1. I

Snake's Tongue

**This is an AU (though not exactly out of place or context) piece based on Olympias' silver tongue, Hephaestion's insecurities and Alexander's determination. I'm not sure how long it's going to be, though at the very least 3 chapters long.  
**

**Reviews would be very much appreciated, thank you :)**

**

* * *

**

Part One

It had been a tiring few weeks, but Hephaestion's smile was strong as he fought the urge to dance his way to his beloved. A few days rest and relief had been promised by his commander, and he was planning on making the most of every minute of it. There was a lightness to his expression that made his grin all the more beautiful, and he attracted the attention of any whom he passed, but he had not eyes for anyone. Stopping outside Alexander's room, where he thought him to be, he called out his dear Achilles' name, but there was no answer. He leaned past the curtain, peeking his head through the doorway, and found himself confronted by a beautiful, austere looking woman.

"What brings you to Alexander's chambers, Hephaestion?" Olympias asked softly and dangerously. Hephaestion considered leaving swiftly; he knew the intense dislike that the woman felt for him. But he stepped into the room, trying to dispel the slight fearfulness in his eyes as she gazed intently upon him.

"I was looking for Alexander," he said, and internally scolded himself for such an obvious statement.

"Apparently," Olympias replied with a smirk. "And what did you want to speak with him about?"

In her hands, Olympias held a snake, and Hephaestion's eyes glanced nervously at it as it writhed through twisting fingers, winding its way up and down her arms, and he was very much aware of how little notice she gave it, as though such a creature was merely another part of her anatomy.

"Nothing," he replied hesitantly, "At least, nothing that cannot wait," he said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Good," Olympias replied. "Alexander has a busy schedule, Hephaestion, and does not need to be plagued with trivial matters. No doubt he shall call for you once his work is complete, though that could be in a few days. The Prince is a busy man," she spoke firmly and deliberately, her emphasis on the word _Prince_ all too clear, and Hephaestion's eyes found their way to floor, both her tone and words humbling him somewhat.

"Could you tell me where I could find him?" he asked, his tone as sincere and polite as he could make it. "I think if he were to-"

"His words were perfectly clear, Hephaestion. He is not to be disturbed for anything, whether trivial or of the utmost importance. Anything of great consequence can be taken up with the King if need be," she offered, or perhaps dared, in a tone of mock kindness.

"Yes, but if I could just-"

"Without exception, if I recall correctly," Olympias furthered darkly, her tongue clicking in impatience. Hephaestion fell silent, eyes flitting around the room briefly, but he knew it was useless. If Alexander did not want to be seen, then Alexander was not going to be seen.

"I see," he replied, after clearing his throat and unclenching his fists. "I thank you," he bowed slightly to the woman, and made to take his leave but was stopped by the woman's soft voice.

"You'd do well not to hinder my son, Hephaestion."

"Excuse me?" he asked, thoroughly confused by her words.

"Regardless of your…_devotion_ to my son," Olympias said, disgust evident on her face, "I would suggest you do not make it any harder for him to keep his throne. You must know how your presence jeopardises his chances of succeeding Philip. Your very presence is a distraction, Hephaestion, do not think I am unaware of my son's fascination with you. If you were at all loyal to the Prince, to this kingdom, you would be sure to stay as far from Alexander as possible. If you are a true friend, you will let him carry on his path towards his throne without hindrances born from misplaced affection."

_Misplaced affection_? Hephaestion thought to himself, and hoped very much that his hurt did not show on his face. Olympias' eyes were cold and demanding, her voice equally so, and Hephaestion ran a hand through his hair nervously, too afraid to say a word in case his voice shook, thus revealing how close he was to breaking.

"I know we both have only Alexander's best interests at heart," Olympias added, sounding almost sympathetic and caring, though her eyes still glittered with a deceit that Hephaestion might have noticed, had he not been too busy trying to block out the meaning of her words. "So I can trust you to understand why it would be best if you do not seek out Alexander in the future. Why…even Alexander has in the past expressed concern as to whether you are more of a hindrance than a help, given the…distracting nature of your feelings towards each other."

Hephaestion thought perhaps his entire chest was going to shatter, let alone his heart. Alexander had said such things? Surely not…but through his contained tears he could see no lie in Olympias' eyes.

"Well…yes," he agreed, his voice thick as his lips quivered. "Of course, I understand completely." He was impressed with himself, keeping his calm. "Thank you, my lady. Please tell Alexander…never mind," he said as an afterthought, and shook his head to himself as he left the room, rejection flooding through him, too distracted by the pounding of his blood in his ears to notice the smirk of triumph spreading across Olympias' face.


	2. II

**Thank you very much to delos13, deelove1, S0phea, and Zophiel Lagace for your kind reviews, they are greatly appreciated!**

**Here we have chapter two, in which Alexander and Olympias reach a confrontation.**

**Reviews would be very much welcomed :)  
**

Part Two

Like his father, Alexander was not a patient man. Though he was loath to admit it, Alexander did in fact share many of King Philip's traits, one of which happened to be that he often turned his panic into anger.

And so it was that he hurried into his bed chambers in a storm, temper not improving at the sight of his mother sat on the chair by the window, no doubt waiting to tell him again of his being the son of Zeus himself, with Philip a mere puppet to take on the role of fatherhood. His scowl darkened and he strode towards the woman, whose serene smile widened at the sight of him.

"Have you seen him?" he demanded, towering over Olympias as she upturned her gaze to meet his eye.

"Who, my child?" she asked, her voice soft and caring, though it was close to a simper.

"Hephaestion of course, I cannot find him." He spoke as if such things were obvious, and Olympias' mouth twisted in distaste at his words.

"It is high time you forgot about foolish dreams, Alexander." She sounded suddenly cold, and she folded her arms, trapping the snake that had been writhing through her fingers into her locked position so that it hissed, but did not strike.

"What?" Alexander snapped, his dark eyes alight with curious anger, and he stepped back a little, as if to view the elegant woman better, or perhaps simply to put a little distance between himself and her. "What is your intention behind such words, mother?" he asked warily.

"You are a King, Alexander! Or soon to be," she said, tilting her head to the side and cooing at the snake, running light fingers over its lithe body until it hissed again, this time in pleasure. "And as such you should be looking to your future, not clinging to your past. It is time you found yourself a wife." She looked up at her son upon concluding her demands, her expression expectant, as if she hoped him to produce such a woman out of nowhere and introduce her there and then.

"And what does this have to do with the whereabouts of Hephaestion?" he questioned hotly, swallowing uncomfortably and clenching his jaw.

"It has _everything_ to do with his whereabouts!" Olympias snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously as she stood to her full height, elegant gown trailing along the floor. "The Gods know, Hephaestion is a good man, and a valuable friend to you it is true," she admitted with some reluctance, her voice bitter as she spoke, as if such words brought a bad taste to her mouth. "But only a fool cannot see your overly deep affection for him," she carried on, her own temper close to breaking. "A pretty face he may be, but it seems his more tempting attributes are a threat to your throne and your entire future; a future that is already endangered, and shall not be secure until you produce an heir!" she finished, her chest heaving and her cheeks glowing with the impatience that blushed in her face.

"Enough!" Alexander cried, fists clenched and expression one of horror. "Incorrigible woman, be silent! Now tell me, where is Hephaestion?" he asked as calmly as he could force his voice to become, and Olympias smiled sweetly.

"I do not know," she said simply. "Though he did come by looking for you himself earlier today," she recalled, her face displaying innocence, but Alexander could read the deception in her voice. "However, once he learned of your busy schedule and clear wish for no visitors he left. I doubt you'll find him anywhere within the vicinity, given that he along with most of the soldiers have been allowed some time of relief." She raised her eyebrows a little, seemingly shocked that the news appeared to displease the Prince.

"I expressed no such wish," he snarled darkly.

"Oh dear…" Olympias replied, her face a picture of false disappointment and sympathy, eyes focused on the snake once more, lips so close to its scaly skin that her breath rippled over its body. "I must have been thinking of someone else when I told him, then." She did not even attempt to sound remorseful, nor did she offer any form of apology.

"He was to dine with us at the feast tonight, he could be anywhere by now! Knowing him he'll have taken his horse and gone gallivanting off for a few days into the wilds, where anything could happen to him…" his concern did not suggest that he was talking about a grown man, instead perhaps of an infant or inexperienced teen, and Olympias was close to rolling her eyes in impatience with her son.

"Only further proving me to be right in my thoughts, Alexander," she said in a bored voice. And before Alexander could cut her off with an angry retort she continued. "Your fondness of him does you no good, Alexander, you depend too much on the man." She despaired, taking a step nearer to her son, fingers clenched around the snake and the young man eyed the creature in her arms with some wariness. ""Why…your will is as strong as an ox's, except for when Hephaestion plays a role in your decision; when he does you think not with your head but your heart and your groin!" She spat venomously.

""Do not speak to me in such a way!" Alexander roared, but wrathful Olympias did not fear the man before her, and her silver tongue worked to bring him back to her with cold words.

"Do you deny it, Alexander?" she asked derisively, "Alexander: strong enough to be King of all Kings. Alexander the Great…ruled by Hephaestion's thighs."

"Silence!" Alexander bellowed, doing his best not to lay a hand upon his mother, whose smile was poisonous and eyes white hot with fury. "Do not speak as if you understand such emotions as love. There is no love in your heart, mother; only greed and hate and vengeance. I cannot expect you to understand my feelings for Hephaestion, but you will not stop me from feeling them. I am not going to let you live your hopes through me, mother!" he cried, and his heart clenched as Olympias' eyes turned from cold to pained, angry to hurt, and her disappointment was evident in her expression. He frowned. Though his anger at the woman had not dissipated, he could not bear to see her so upset.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching up to put a hand to her face. "But you won't rule my life; I won't let you."

Alexander leaned over to kiss her forehead, lightly and lovingly as ever, before turning to make for the stables, to see if Hephaestion had indeed left. But before he exited the room he stopped, and turned back to leave Olympias with one final warning.

"Never interfere with my heart again, mother. Do not assume anything about me. And never try to come between Hephaestion and myself."

And then he left, Olympias' voice ringing painfully in his ears as she screeched her fury at him.

"_Do not forget who it was that carried you, Alexander! From the day you were born all I have tried to do is give you what you deserve; to help you learn just how important you are. But you do not listen to me! You shall one day know how true my words are, little Achilles…"_


	3. III

**I think this is perhaps a bit shorter than the previous two, and for that I apologise. Exams are getting in the way!**

**Thanks very much to S0phea, MorrociaIsMad, Gif, and Zophiel Lagace for your lovely reviews! Please keep them coming, I love to know what you think of the story, or if there's anything you'd like to see in upcoming chapters!**

Part Three

Despite his initial doubts, Hephaestion was not half as difficult to find as Alexander anticipated. The young man's horse was not to be found in any of the stables, and after years of closeness, Alexander could guess without much trouble where he had escaped to. Refusing help from the stable boy, Alexander saddled up Bucephalus and made to leave, ready to ride all day and night if he had to.

The anger flooding through his veins made his movements sharp, and later on he felt somewhat guilty for shouting at the poor stable boy when he said he didn't know how long ago Hephaestion had left.

But alas, the deed was done, and before long hot winds were whipping across the young Prince's face as he sped towards the river that ran through a beautiful copse. His mother's words still rang in his ears, louder than the whistling breeze and the thudding of Bucephalus' hooves as he galloped. All he could think of was Hephaestion, and he prayed to the Gods that his beloved had not listened to the foolish ravings of the madwoman.

He thought too of Achilles, and how his love for Patroclus had survived through the ages; surely Hephaestion knew his love to be no less deep? He was confident that the man would pay no heed to the Queen's words, and his self-assurance allowed a smile to grace his grim expression; he leant closer into his horse, urging his steed to race all the more quickly with soothing words of encouragement.

It was not hard to spot the figure half hidden among trees and bushes. He spied the auburn brown hair with ease, and Bucephalus snorted with wariness as Alexander led him down the sloping hill, towards the glistening river that sang as it rushed over smooth stones, lapping at the bare legs of Hephaestion that were dangling into their depths from where he sat on the bank. Alexander smiled at the figure, dismounting his steed and sitting down beside his beloved, who made no acknowledgement that he was there at all.

"Hephaestion?" he asked when the young man did not acknowledge the chaste kiss planted on his cheek. Hephaestion looked up, and Alexander was alarmed to see confusion and pain among the cerulean of his beloved's eyes. "Hephaestion, what's wrong?" he asked, and reached to place a hand upon the boy's cheek. But Hephaestion leant out of his embrace, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't be here," he said distractedly, and Alexander stared at him.

"Do you not wish me to be here?" he asked, trying not to sound hurt.

"No! I mean…yes, I do…but you should not…I do not wish to waste your time, Alexander." Hephaestion's firm gaze returned to the rippling water, not moving when Alexander slipped his hand into his.

"But I would like very much to stay with you here," he said softly, placing his chin on his companion's shoulder.

"You should return to the Palace, my Prince." Hephaestion said, his voice monotonous.

"Hephaestion!" Alexander despaired. "You know how much it pains me for you to call me that. You are my beloved, as I am yours, nothing more. There are no titles between us, we are equals."

"But we are not," Hephaestion replied weakly, his lips quivering as he looked up into the older boy's face. "You are a Prince, Alexander. We were wrong to forget that; to think that it meant nothing." His attention returned to the pools of water that swirled around his calves, and Alexander withdrew the hand that had been half draped over his love's shoulder.

"Why are you saying this?" he asked breathlessly.

"You're the future king, Alexander," Hephaestion implored. "It was selfish of me to expect you to keep me by your side forever. I was just a fool in love with a man twice my stature, and thrice my character." He sounded…accepting; as if his mind was made up, and this caused Alexander's heart to tremble. He had broken the stubbornness of Bucephalus, but even the obstinate horse's willpower was nothing compared to Hephaestion.

Alexander grabbed Hephaestion's shoulders roughly and shook him slightly, his eyes pained and his mouth agape with terror.

"Hephaestion, you listen to me. Whatever that…that _snake_ said, I want you to forget it. My mother plays no part in my life where you are concerned. I love her dearly, but she does not know my heart, Hephaestion! She cannot see the undying affection I save only for you. Nothing shall part us, what of Achilles and Patroclus?" he begged, and his teeth worried his lower lip as he waited for Hephaestion to answer, seeing the calculating sapphire eyes.

Hephaestion smiled contentedly, and reached up a hand to cup Alexander's face, rubbing the pad of his thumb across his cheek lovingly.

"You owe me nothing, Alexander. I will always love you, but you owe me nothing. Now go back to your Palace, Prince. You are a fine Macedonian, and I know in my heart you'll go far."

Alexander did not feel the soft brush of his beloved's lips against his, only the dampness as one of Hephaestion's tears was transferred from cheek to cheek. He stared unseeing, unaware of Hephaestion getting up and walking towards his horse, who was stood close to Bucephalus, and mounting fluidly. He barely heard the sound of hooves galloping away, not in the direction of the Palace, but Westward, towards to the wilderness that his dear Hephaestion loved so dearly.

Alexander felt cold waves of…_something_ washing over him; though whether it was fear, or fury, or something more powerful than both he could not say. Hi fingers scraped against the sandy embankment, the dirt sticking under his fingernails and the stones grating against his palms as he wondered what he could possibly do.

The most obvious, his first thought sprang to mind instantly, would be to march straight back to the Palace and strangle the wretched woman that had birthed him. But that was irrational Philip within him thinking, he knew he could not kill his own mother, no matter her faults. Deep inside, he knew her love for him was passionate, but the truth was simple. She had no right.

He looked up towards the road Hephaestion had sped – _escaped_ – down, and he considered following, a frown darkening his gaze.

He stood abruptly, and Bucephalus stepped lightly in line with him, obediently waiting for his master to mount. Alexander ran his fingers softly through his steed's hair.

He knew exactly where to go.


	4. IV

**Thanks so much to Aebbe, S0phea, deelove1, nessa, Zophiel Lagace, and delos13 for your lovely reviews, thank so much for your support, and now that it's coming close to Christmas, I have the bribe of mince pies, apple pies and muffins to hopefully tempt some more reviews…**

**Also, a special thanks to Gif, a fan of this story, who I promise to think of with all my heart ;)**

**Okay, this chapter is definitely pushing the boundaries of historical fact, I don't even know if Alexander and Hephaestion had the same confidant, but this was the obvious choice for someone to advise Alexander, and we'll see Hephaestion's point of view in the next chapter :)  
**

**Reviews would be lovely, and remember, mince pies, apple pies and muffins for all reviewers!**

Part Four

The road was not long, but it seemed to take an age to reach the home of his old tutor, and Alexander was breathless with worry and overexertion by the time he dismounted Bucephalus, hair windswept and face raw with the wind and dust that had whipped his face as he rode.

"Ahh, young Alexander, how good it is to see you again!"

"My dear Aristotle," Alexander replied with a grateful and not altogether untrue smile. "How have you been?"

"Oh, I have been well, though somewhat missing some of my older pupils, I daresay. Though that is not the question, is it, Alexander? The question is what are you doing here?" Alexander met the older man's wise gaze, and knew better than to dance around the subject. Aristotle was not one for small talk, he never had been, and avoiding the matter at hand had only ever infuriated the scholar in the past. They sat together, and Alexander began,

"I wanted to talk to you about…well the thing is," he stalled, wondering how best to word his scrambled thoughts, but he fell silent again.

"Yes?" Aristotle prompted, brows raised, and Alexander spoke quickly, deciding it would be better to simply say it.

"Do you still speak with Hephaestion?"

Aristotle's curious expression softened a little more, brow puckering, and he sighed, clasping his hands in his lap as he did so. His eyes widened a little as he nodded, and Alexander smiled in relief. Hephaestion had always had great respect for their tutor, and had always looked to him for advice in the past.

"Can I speak plainly?" Alexander asked, and Aristotle smiled a little condescendingly.

"I very much hope so," he replied.

"Then in that case, has Hephaestion…has he ever spoken to you about me?"

Aristotle leant back in his seat, expression pensive and lips pressed together tightly in thought. Alexander observed, feeling a little unnerved, it was very much like the sensation of having his soul examined. The wise face surveyed him was kindness, and smiled after a few moments.

"In what context do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"Any," Alexander said desperately. "Has he even mentioned me?"

"Alexander," Aristotle sighed, and he sounded tired, though also a little exasperated as well. "I can foresee without the powers of the Gods, where this conversation will lead to, and I shall tell you naught but this. Hephaestion is a good boy, always was, even as a child, but now he has grown into something more; something that allows him to the truly respected person he is. He has grown to be a proud man."

Aristotle stopped speaking, though to Alexander it sounded as though the speech was barely half finished. He leaned over, silently asking for more, but when Aristotle still did not speak, he rolled his eyes with impatience.

"And? What does that mean?" he asked.

"What it means," Aristotle explained in and wearied voice, "is that he, like all other proud men, is not built to live purely in the shadows. That is what makes him who he is. He outshone you often as children, did he not, Alexander? Granted, you broke Bucephalus, but was his own horse not stubborn also? Who was it that won all those wrestling matches, who outperformed in your studies more often than not?"

"Hephaestion," Alexander breathed with a fond smile, eyes distant with nostalgia. He was still yet to beat Hephaestion at wrestling, but at least he could say he caught up in his lessons.

"And yet he shall never grow to your heights, Alexander, he may only ever follow three steps behind. You're a Prince, Alexander. You can tell the rest of the world otherwise, but the rest of the world will not listen to you."

"I tried to tell him I am no different to him though!" Alexander said desperately. "It doesn't matter to me what our status is in the eyes of others."

"Of course it does not matter to you, Alexander!" Aristotle cried, "You are one step away from Kingship! Such matters would not seem important to you. But to a man like Hephaestion, someone who has to work for his title…it is everything. You can't talk someone out of it, or reassure them otherwise with just a few words." Aristotle smiled sympathetically when Alexander's shoulders slumped, as if his words had thrown heavy weights upon the young man's back, breaking him.

"Then what am I to do?" he asked weakly, eyes downcast.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you, but I know you, Alexander, and I know what you will do. And I tell you now, executing every person who treats Hephaestion differently to how they treat you, is not the way to go about it. That will do nothing. Let Hephaestion earn himself a respectable title, without the aid of your affections, and then you will see."

"See what?" Alexander asked despairingly.

"You'll see how much happier a man he'll be, knowing everything he has, he has earned; his position, his friends, and even your love."

The two men sat in silence for a while, and Aristotle surveyed the young man at his side with wonder. He could recall the frisky young boy who had argued so fiercely in political debates with his fellow classmates. The boy so in love with common tales, the stories meant for amusement, the stories that he took so seriously. Now, a young man, it seemed he was as naïve as ever.

"What of my mother?" Alexander asked after a short while, and the old man shook himself slightly, the heat confusing his orientation for a moment.

"What was that, your mother?" he asked, bewildered, "Oh, yes, I see. Well, I am not getting involved in that, Alexander. Too close to matters of the throne, that is. I shan't risk involvement."

"But I fear she's driven Hephaestion away from me with poisonous words." Alexander said softly, his feet tracing circles in the dust.

"Would you let such a thing dismiss your feelings for him?" Aristotle asked, and Alexander looked horrified.

"Of course not!"

"And are your affections any deeper than Hephaestion's?"

"No!"

"Then do no worry over such foolish things. Let the boy deal with his own worries in his own way. I have known Hephaestion a long time, the same as you, and he's stronger than he looks, that one. No doubt he'll be a bit shaken up, but it would take more than a few words to drive him away completely. Surely you know that?" Aristotle asked, a smile widening on his face until he was chuckling. "By the Gods, boy, and I told your father I thought you to be intelligent!"

Alexander laughed, and shook the older man's hand firmly.

"I thank you, Aristotle, my good friend, you are a fine counsel." Aristotle merely waved the young Prince away with the shake of his hand, and kindly asking not to be pestered with such trivial matters in the future. Bucephalus was stood waiting, and with a better idea of what to do, Alexander mounted his steed and began to make for the palace once more.


	5. V

**Thank you very much to Aebbe, S0phea and Gif for your reviews, hope you enjoyed your virtual Christmas goodies ;) As ever, reviews would be lovely, and rewarded with what's left of the Christmas baking marathon I've been having over the past week.**

**And I hope everyone had a good Christmas :) I'm thinking possibly two more chapters for this story, unless some sudden spark of inspiration finds me quickly. We return to Hephaestion's point of view, and see his side of the tale…**

Part Five

Hephaestion liked being stubborn. Sometimes it was the only way he could stand the looks he received from staring women and men: adoring, or envious, though often lustful. Though sometimes, such as at a time like this, he knew deep inside that he was only being pig-headed to be awkward. He could have swallowed his pride as he had done at fourteen, but he didn't want to.

He was fed up of being the submissive wretch that followed the golden boy like a lost pup.

His solitude among the trees had almost been invaded by a figure galloping towards the caves, beyond which the river widened into a series of rushing rapids. For one moment he had panicked, thinking it to be Alexander following him.

But it wasn't. The horse had been pale, not dark, and much stockier that Bucephalus; and the rider's hair had been ebony black, not golden, and of a much larger build than the prince.

So Hephaestion had returned to his brooding, eyes boring into ground far below as he sat amongst the branches of his favourite tree, his chiton frayed at the hem where it had caught on the roughened bark of his not so very comfortable seat.

He had known things were going to change for over a year now – ever since Alexander had been declared Regent. As Regent he had been granted his private tent, but had still expected to share it with Hephaestion for the most part, as if oblivious to the opinionated superiors around them. As Prince, nothing was going to be said to his face – especially not now Alexander had managed to fall into his father's favour at last – but there was nothing to stop snide remarks reaching Hephaestion's ears.

They hated him; Hephaestion knew it was down to jealousy, to envy, to embitterment because of his success alongside the prince. That didn't stop him from feeling hurt at their accusing glares as he walked boldly into Alexander's tent without being questioned by the guards.

Not even dutiful servants or generals such as Antipatros were so honoured as to have free access to the prince's quarters.

And it didn't matter how many times Hephaestion told himself what other's thought didn't matter.

Because it always seemed to anyway.

"Hephaestion!"

The young man nearly fell out of the tree as he flinched at the loud voice calling up to him from the ground.

It was the rider who had passed him by earlier. The sandy horse was tied loosely to a branch and the man stood directly beneath Hephaestion, who smiled a little at the familiar and friendly face he found himself confronted by.

"What on earth are you doing up there your little sulking tree, boy?" the man asked, and Hephaestion sighed deeply, making no move to vacate his position. "I'd have thought you'd be cheering up the prince. I saw him pass on his horse earlier today; very serious, he looked, like a man deeply troubled. You'd do well to go distract him from his worries."

Normally, Perdiccas would have had his light-hearted remark received with a rueful grin and a gentle kick, but today Hephaestion did not want to hear of his 'duties' to Alexander, and presently turned away from his friend to stare westward towards the village ahead, which seemed to buzz with life even from this great distance.

"Oh Hephaestion, learn to take a joke. Now, do I have to climb up there and drag you down myself, or will you just get out of that tree like a good boy?" Perdiccas asked condescendingly, smirking when he saw the young man shift uncomfortably. Had anyone else threatened this – Alexander excluded, of course – Hephaestion would have waved them away, knowing it to be mere empty words. But Perdiccas was different. He _would_ climb the tree if need arose.

"Hephaestion…" Perdiccas clucked, reaching up to place a firm hand on the lowest branch.

"Alright, alright!" Hephaestion said quickly, seeing the man make ready to climb. "I'm coming down," he grumbled, glowering at the dark haired man once he was on solid ground once more.

"Now, sit," Perdiccas ordered, and Hephaestion thought about refusing, but then decided against it. He didn't need or want the humiliation of being wrestled to the ground, even if there was no-one to see it.

"Eat," the man also commanded, handing his young friend some fruit from the bag attached to his horse's saddle. Hephaestion ate reluctantly, and there was silence for a short while as the two companions munched, leaning against the thick trunk of Hephaestion's 'brooding tree', and Perdiccas had dubbed it years ago.

"Now," Perdiccas began once they had finished their food. "Judging by your dislike of Alexander being mentioned, I gather you two have had a little argument?" he asked delicately.

"No…" Hephaestion said moodily. "Not exactly," he corrected.

"Then what?"

Hephaestion did not answer.

"If I could force you to talk to me when you where thirteen, Hephaestion, then there's not much to say I couldn't force something out of you now. I don't care if four years have passed, or forty."

"I just don't like anything about the situation at all." Hephaestion said slowly after a brief pause.

"The situation…?" Perdiccas asked, a little confused. Hephaestion turned to him, eyes dark, and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, _the_ situation." He said. "Well I think you're a fool," he commented with a tremor of amusement in his voice.

"A fool? What fool am I to have some sort of self-respect; to want to know I've earned what I get, and am not being rewarded for keeping _the Prince_ happy?" He spoke Alexander's title with a bitter edge that only made Perdiccas' grin more prominent. "What?" the younger man asked suspiciously.

"You should really hear yourself; do you not know the honour you have?" Perdiccas said, "Hephaestion…you have what others would kill for – the love of the king's son, of Alexander!"

"I. Don't. _Want_. His. Love!" Hephaestion snapped, as close to throttling his friend as Perdiccas was to laughing. "Since when have _you_ cared about special attention from Alexander _or_ his father?" he asked shrewdly.

"You're not listening to me," Perdiccas said gently, reaching over to rustle Hephaestion's hair, only to have his hand batted away impatiently. "I'm not talking about the privileges that come along with being under the attention of a prince. Alexander is one of the most admired people in all of Greece. All who meet him seem to want his attention. They clamour for it, fight for it, even. Alexander isn't even king yet, and already he's under the eye of as many people as his father. But you don't need to clamour for it, or fight for it, or even ask for it. You are handed it freely."

"I don't just want to be given things for free."

"Oh, you can't have everything in life, Hephaestion! Look, you took your first man at fourteen; I didn't until I was sixteen, and I was very nearly killed in the struggle myself. You've proven yourself worthy in battle, and one day you'll prove yourself worthy in politics. Until that day comes, yes, people are going to make assumptions about you. People are going to criticise you. People are going to dislike you, and envy you. Learn some patience," he advised. "And as difficult as it is, keep your chin held high, don't let them know they're words affect you. And for the love of the gods, _don't_ let the opinions of others come between you and that foolish prince. He's going to need you before the end."

"And what about his…family?" Hephaestion asked. If there was one person he could trust to talk to about anything, it was Perdiccas, so Hephaestion felt a little less shame talking about such matters with the older man.

"I take it you mean his mother? It must be, because his father values you in his army…Hephaestion, I'll only say this: I'd be more worried if she _liked_ you, than if she didn't."

Hephaestion did not know whether or not he felt comforted, but Perdiccas meant well by his words, and the reassuring – though somewhat patronising – clap on the back he received was warm and friendly, and he smiled as he stood beside his friend, who began to remove the tether that held his horse to its post.

"Perdiccas," Hephaestion said as the man mounted.

"Yes?"

"How did you…know? I never strictly told you about my feelings."

Perdiccas only grinned toothily, "Hephaestion, your infatuation is about as easy to read in your face, as the king's hatred is to read whenever the queen is mentioned."

And with that, followed by a half hearted wink, Perdiccas bade the young man farewell, and headed to the beaten path that ran alongside the trees, leaving Hephaestion disconcerted, and even a little paranoid.

He considered climbing back up his tree, but decided that was a little too immature, even for him. Instead he went in search of his horse, which had wandered off as he hadn't thought to tie the beast down, and contemplated how long he could wait before confronting Alexander again.

* * *

Aristotle had not expected a second visitor. After his conversation with Alexander, he had resumed his reading, and prepared himself for an undisturbed evening alone to his thoughts.

The sound of horse hoofs beating against the track, drawing ever closer, caused him to sigh. Probably Alexander, come to ask more questions.

But it wasn't Alexander, it was Hephaestion.

The night was descending, and the air had chilled suddenly, so Aristotle invited his old pupil inside and had him seat near the fire, as the young man's face was flushed from the cold. Once his guest had accepted a cup of wine and was seated comfortably, Aristotle decided to speak, but was interrupted by Hephaestion's eager voice.

"Has Alexander been here?" he asked, and Aristotle wondered whether to smile or roll his eyes. In the end, he chose both.

"Yes, he has indeed," he admitted, as the prince had given no instructions to conceal his visit.

Hephaestion had not expected the answer to be so blunt and readily given; he paused before speaking again.

"Did he…" he began. He realised that speaking to Perdiccas had been far easier than speaking to Aristotle when it came to Alexander and their feelings for one another, probably because he had spent a great deal of time with Perdiccas. Aristotle had advised him on many issues, and had even spoken to him of Alexander often, but his true feelings for the prince, though according to Perdiccas were not much of a secret, he had never openly admitted to his old tutor.

"Yes," Aristotle said, assuming this conversation was going to follow very much along the same lines as his previous conversation with Alexander. "And to avoid a great deal of small talk before we get to the real problem, Hephaestion, your affections for one another have been known to me possibly before they were to you. I watched you grow as you studied, before you became a man, and I knew where your heart would finally rest."

Hephaestion felt his face blush and he glanced meekly at the floor. It disturbed him how very much an open book he seemed to be.

"And I also know that you want to make your own way in the world, as you have told me before. You wish to fight and be rewarded with honour, not simply rewarded, as Alexander would sometimes wish you to be."

Hephaestion nodded. This was very true; Alexander often had no qualms about exaggerating Hephaestion's importance in battle, if it gave him recognition.

"Perdiccas…" Hephaestion said timidly, not sure whether or not he wanted to talk to Aristotle about it, but forcing himself to anyway. "Perdiccas told me that I should be…should be, well, _grateful_ for Alexander's freely given love, and not worry about people's opinions."

Aristotle did not know the man Perdiccas, save for through his discussions with Hephaestion. From what he had gathered, the man was older than the boys he had taught – even the oldest of them – but young enough to gain a friendship with Hephaestion in which each saw the other as an equal. A man to be trusted, no doubt, but perhaps not the best man to be giving advice on matters of the heart, when according to rumours his own heart was so easily swayed.

"Perhaps he is right," Aristotle said lightly, gauging by Hephaestion's reaction how good an effect Perdiccas' advice had had on the young man.

"You think?" Hephaestion asked incredulously.

"You're in an impossible situation, Hephaestion; we all have our trials through life. Granted, yours are coming a little early in life, such worries did not burden me until I had seen thirty summers, but it is inevitable that we should face hard decisions. Now, you can reject the love offered to you, if you so wish, condemning both yourself and Alexander to hurt and upset, but ultimately keeping your pride intact." He said frankly, and Hephaestion grimaced, opening his mouth to comment, but Aristotle kept speaking firmly.

"Or, you can accept this love, and view the hard road that awaits you, should you choose this option, as the tests of the gods, and know that you and Alexander will be able to help one another see this life through, perhaps even extending into the next life that the gods have prepared for us."

"Well I think it's pretty obvious which one you'd rather I chose," Hephaestion said with a small smile. Aristotle shrugged quietly.

"It's not my place to tell you what to do with your life, Hephaestion. But I would always advise you to choose whichever will make you happiest."

"And if I don't know which will make me happier?" he asked.

"Then you're a fool who does not know his own heart half as well as he should," Aristotle replied, and Hephaestion let out a loud and true laugh that seemed to last an age, before he drained the last of his wine. "Another cup full?" Aristotle proposed, and Hephaestion was tempted, but shook his head.

"I suppose I had better return to my own bed, or I'll find myself sleeping on your floor, or by the side of the road."

"Well, good luck to you, and your decision. Come and visit me again before you have to leave for battle. I miss our talks whenever you are away."

"I shall," Hephaestion promised, one foot already out of the door, "And if I miss the opportunity, I shall write to you," he added, before strolling to the stable and mounting his horse, causing it to snort and shiver a little.

"Until then," Aristotle hailed at the door, and raised his hand in a small wave as the young man took off into the darkness, his mind refusing to think of anything but sleep, and pushing aside any excitement he thought at the idea of seeing Alexander tomorrow.


	6. VI

**Lots of thanks to Aebbe, Gif, S0phea and delos13 for your kind reviews, and a special thanks to Zophiel Lagace, who I hope enjoys this chapter because it covers some of our previous conversation about Hephaestion and Alexander, as will the next chapter as well ;)**

**Reviews would be lovely thank you, it's great to know what people think :)**

Part Six

Night was falling fast, and Alexander watched from his window with tired eyes, as he had been doing for what felt like hours. Hephaestion's horse had not been in the stables when the prince had returned to the palace, and so Alexander had decided to wait and watch for his beloved's return. As the sky darkened, he began to fear that Hephaestion would not return at all.

As his hope slowly diminished, however, he heard the clattering of hooves against stone. Peering through the dim light he saw a figure galloping straight to the stables, slowing only as he reached the doorway, where he dismounted to lead his horse by hand. Though he had not been sure at first, when the young man had exited the stable once more Alexander was in no doubt that it was Hephaestion.

For one foolish moment he considered shouting down to him.

He stopped himself just in time, content instead to watch as the young man walked towards the building where his own bed chambers were situated. Alexander watched Hephaestion's retreating back with a fond smile, and presently allowed sleep to take hold as he sank deeply into the silken sheets of his own bed, his mind at ease now that his beloved was home safely.

Upon waking to the soft golden light of dawn, Alexander's first thought was of food. The second was of Hephaestion, and he smiled. Dressing hastily, the prince vacated his room and walked as quickly as etiquette allowed down towards Hephaestion's room, growing more and more delighted with every step he took.

He ran through his speech again in his head, wondering whether or not he should make it shorter, or whether or not it would have been better _not_ to prepare a speech, and simply speak spontaneously instead.

He was so distracted that he barely noticed the young girl walking with her head bowed towards him. They collided with some force, due to Alexander's haste, and the girl tripped. A reluctant cry escaped her lips as she fell, and Alexander caught her wrist before she hit the ground. Staggering to her feet, the girl blushed and stared at the prince's hand enclosed around her arm with wonder.

"Th-thank you, I'm sorry," she mumbled. She was very pretty, Alexander remarked; she seemed somewhat familiar, but he could not put a name to her face. Her dark hair curled around her neck and reaching her waist, which was slim like the rest of her body; she surveyed him with violet eyes that widened as they met his own. She licked her pouting lips nervously.

"It was my fault entirely," he said, and made to walk past her, but she was standing in the way, and did not move.

"I've been told to bring you to the Queen's chambers," she spoke delicately, and Alexander clenched his teeth. He didn't want to show his anger towards the girl, who was not many years his junior; it was not her fault.

"Please tell the Queen that I shall visit her as soon as possible," he said firmly, and the girl's eyes, which had been attempting a look of seduction, widened in horror.

"P-please sir…I beg you. The Queen wishes to see you urgently."

There was something in her expression that stopped Alexander from simply barging straight past her. It was as if the girl feared dreadful consequences should she fail to present the prince to his mother.

"Tia," he said quietly, and the girl's blush deepened.

"Yes, my lord."

He remembered her now. She was the first girl that had been sent to his bed chambers by his mother – much to his fury and embarrassment. He had given her a kind word and then sent her back to her mistress, guilt flooding him at the tears that she had held in her eyes as she left. His sister had told him not a week later than one of their mother's slave girls had been laid up for almost two days the week previous after a beating. Alexander swallowed, glancing down the corridor that would take him to Hephaestion, and then nodded.

"Very well," he said. His rejection had already been the cause of one beating for the girl, he felt cruel subjecting her to another.

Relief graced the girl's lips in the form of a tender smile and she turned on her heel, leading to way to the queen's quarters. Alexander entered with his head held high and Olympias stood at the sight of him, smiling as she barked at the girls surrounding her to leave immediately.

"Alexander," she cooed, shaking her dark red hair from her shoulders and reaching up to cup her son's face.

"Mother," he said, and he kissed her cheek with some reluctance.

"You are to see Antipatros today, are you not?" She smiled sweetly, but Alexander's eyes narrowed.

"Since when did matters concerning my father and his men interest you?" he asked, and Olympias laughed softly, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose a little at her son.

"You are important to your father's success; I would not want you to fall short in your duties."

"I was planning to see Antipatros later today, if you must know," Alexander admitted impatiently. "Happy now?"

"Not to worry," Olympias said delightedly, "I have already sent word to him. He is expecting you," she explained, and though her smile was innocent, her eyes glittered as she saw the irritated flush in her son's cheeks deepen.

"I am perfectly capable of handling my own schedule thank you very much, mother," he snapped.

"I'll bear that in mind, my darling," she said. "But it would be rude to keep the general waiting. You should go now."

Alexander balled his hands into fists by his sides. He knew it would be very wrong to hit his own mother, and the gods would punish him for it – though perhaps not his father – but it took a great deal of willpower to refrain from doing just that. His breaths were heavy as he nodded mutely, turning without another word to walk out of the snake's lair with all the dignity he could muster.

She infuriated him. His thoughts would have been stronger, but he did not know a single word that described exactly what he was feeling in that moment.

Infuriated would have to do.

His patience was past simply wavering as he stormed through the palace, but he worked to reign it back in before he met with Antipatros, who was a good man, and did not deserve the wrath that Alexander felt like unleashing at his mother's manipulating, conniving schemes, no matter how small and petty they seemed to be.

* * *

The day was young when Hephaestion awoke, the grey light of pre-dawn still filled the eastern horizon, and he cursed himself. He could not waken Alexander so early, not when the prince was finally able to enjoy the luxury of sleeping until a reasonable hour for once, now that his duties as Regent had settled down upon the king's decision to return to Pella.

He would simply have to wait.

He placed his hands comfortably behind his head and stared upwards at the sandy coloured ceiling. It was not long before he grew restless, though with nerves or excitement he couldn't quite tell.

Probably both, he thought to himself as he stood and began to dress as slowly as possible, unable to wait idly but not wanting to arrive too early. By the time he was walking towards the palace, the air was tinged with gold as the sun struggled to break the horizon.

"Hephaestion!" the young man turned to see Perdiccas jogging towards him and he smiled as best as he could, trying not to sound impatient as he hailed his friend.

"What can I do for you, Perdiccas?" he asked politely, hoping he didn't to sound distracted.

"I wouldn't normally ask, but can I borrow your horse?" the older man pleaded, sounding almost desperate.

"Why on earth would you need my horse? Your own is a mighty fine creature."

"Aye, she is that," Perdiccas agreed, "but it's my sister's son. I agreed to teach him to ride while I have the chance, but I didn't realise he has no horse of his own."

"I do not think Perros is the best choice for an amateur, Perdiccas, he is obedient only to myself, Alexander and you. He can rival Bucephalus with his stubbornness. Not a good choice to learn on at all."

"I know," Perdiccas said quickly. "But my Mendi is very tame indeed. The lad can ride her, and I shall take Perros."

Hephaestion smiled, nodding kindly.

"Then in that case of course you can take him. Good luck with your tutoring," he bade his friend, and with many a gracious word of thanks Perdiccas turned to the stables, leaving Hephaestion free to carry on his route towards Alexander's chambers.

The corridors were silent, and Hephaestion was quickly at the door to his beloved's room. When his knocking received no answer he timidly entered, expecting to find a still sleeping Alexander.

Instead the bed was cold, the room empty; Hephaestion sighed in disappointment.

"Gone already, have you?" he said to himself in a small voice.

* * *

Antipatros, as expected, had been helpful, accommodating and informative in his conversation. Alexander could not fault the man.

One of the best things about the general, Alexander thought to himself as he sped his way out of the palace, was that he was happy to remain wilfully ignorant in matters that did not strictly concern him.

Any fool would have noticed that though charming, Alexander was far from happy throughout their talk of strategy and planning, and much less enthusiastic than he normally was. But Antipatros hadn't said a word on the subject; hadn't even asked more than once whether or not the prince was alright; because, as he had said in the past, it was not his place to have an opinion on matters outside of warfare when it came to the king, or even the prince.

So Alexander hastened to Hephaestion's quarters – private, unlike many of the young soldiers, thanks to insistence of Alexander – feeling at ease once more, now that he was back on schedule.

He reached his destination and knocked gently, calling out Hephaestion's name. When he wasn't answered he entered without invitation, surprised that Hephaestion had not yet risen. The man was normally awake far earlier than the prince.

But the room was empty.

"Where are you Hephaestion?" Alexander asked the cold and vacant bed, frowning in disappointment.

* * *

Unsure what to do with himself, or where to start looking for Alexander without his horse to search further than the palace, Hephaestion wandered listlessly down the corridors at a leisurely pace. His eyes did not stray far from the ground in front of him; his thoughts of where the prince could possibly be were taking up the majority of his concentration.

It was not until he heard, as if from a great distance, his name being called in a gruff voice that he wrenched his gaze from the floor and up towards the figure stood watching him.

"My lord," he said, bowing a little in respect to the king.

"Where is my son, Hephaestion?" Philip asked, his voice husky, and Hephaestion fought the urge to shrug sulkily. It must be important if the king thought it worthy of searching for him, rather than sending someone.

"I don't know sir," he spoke politely, and Philip nodded.

"Nobody has seen him since Antipatros spoke to him earlier today. If you do see him, tell him I need to speak with him."

"I will do sir," Hephaestion bowed his head again, and when he looked up he saw that Philip's eyes were raking over him with an intent stare. But rather than blush and back down as he had done at fourteen, he stood defiantly, waiting for Philip's gaze to return to his face.

Eventually Philip nodded, and then retreated back down the corridor, no doubt to speak with Antipatros again. Hephaestion raised his hands to his face and ran them down his cheeks, pulling at his chin and squeezing his eyes shut. He counted five slow, calming breaths before carrying on his route out of the castle, wanting more than anything to accidentally run into Alexander as he walked aimlessly out into the brightening sunshine.

* * *

"You could be Prometheus, laid like that."

Ptolemy looked up from his position; he was lying flat out on a rock, arms stretched out and chest bare.

"Perhaps not," the olde man said with a grin, sitting up as Alexander sat down with a sigh on a boulder beside him. He saw Bucephalus tied loosely to a tree a little further down the mountain slope alongside his own steed, and the prince's forehead was glistening with sweat from the climb. "What brings you here?" he asked, and Alexander huffed in imitation of a moody child.

"I thought you were perhaps Hephaestion. Your horses are very similar, and I thought yours was Perros because he isn't in his stable, which means Hephaestion is out riding again."

"And your keen interest in the whereabouts of Hephaestion is due to…?" Ptolemy asked, resuming his relaxing pose on his rock.

Alexander rolled his eyes at him; Ptolemy twisted his lips and sighed deeply.

"Alexander, your nightly activities with the boy are not my concern. Please do not come to me with such issues."

"I'm not!" Alexander cried innocently. "Though you could be nicer to Hephaestion, he's under the impression you hate him." Ptolemy smirked, eyes closed against the sun as it rose steadily in the sky.

"I don't hate him," he said, "Though I am not what you could call a fan of his."

"Why?" Alexander demanded indignantly, and Ptolemy made a noise of irritation and opened his eyes again to look up blearily at the prince.

"Alexander, do not ask me why the world works as it does. Hephaestion is a beautiful young man, and the fact is men do not trust beautiful men. Maybe it is folly, or maybe there is truth behind their jealousies and envies, either way, I am yet to find a man that will trust a man with a face like your Hephaestion."

"So you are jealous of him?" Alexander scowled at Ptolemy, who chuckled, making a gesture somewhere between shaking his head and shrugging.

"I'm surprised you trust him, Alexander, though you are handsome yourself, so perhaps it's a good match." He dodged the soft blow Alexander tried to deal him with a lazy fist, catching the prince's arm and pushing him to the side fondly.

"Ptolemy?" Alexander asked after a moment of silence, and the older man replied with a noncommittal noise. "Remember when I was younger and I asked you about us being half-" he paused at the sharp look Ptolemy threw him. "Half-brothers," he finished firmly. "There's no-one around to hear, is there?" he said with a sigh of impatience.

"No, but I'd still rather you didn't say it aloud. You could bring great disgrace to my mother, saying things like that. I don't care if the entire world seems to know it already."

"But you remember?" Alexander insisted, and Ptolemy nodded reluctantly.

"And we swore always to fight for one another?"

"Yes, Alexander. Get to the point."

"Did that include my family members?"

Ptolemy let out a barking laugh that was loud enough to startle Bucephalus, who began snorting and stamping.

"By Zeus boy, are you planning to overthrow your father?" he asked, still chuckling. Alexander smiled ruefully and shook his head.

"No," he muttered, "I just want a way of stopping my mother from interfering with Hephaestion."

Ptolemy rolled his eyes and lay back down, settling to go back to sleep.

"That's easy Alexander."

"How so?" the prince asked incredulously.

"You're a prince!" Ptolemy cried in an obvious tone.

"Your point being?" Alexander asked impatiently.

"Just declare Hephaestion your eromenos and she will have no right to separate you. If she pulled you apart, declaring him your eromenos and then abandoning him would bring a deal of disgrace you, which she would hate to do. She'd have no choice but to accept Hephaestion. Not willingly, perhaps, but she'd still have to do it."

When the silence stretched Ptolemy opened his eyes to glance at the young man, and grinned at the sight of Alexander's lit up expression. Abruptly the prince's arms were wrapped around his neck, hugging him tightly, and he shook him off with a gruff scowl.

"No need, Alexander," he said firmly, frowning when he couldn't find the comfy position Alexander had jostled him out of with his display of affection.

"Thank you Ptolemy," Alexander said breathlessly. "You're a genius."

"I know," Ptolemy said with a casual smile, and he listened contentedly to the shaky steps of Alexander racing back down the mountain, slowly getting quieter and quieter, until eventually they turned from footsteps to hooves beating the ground as the prince sped away in search of his new eromenos. Ptolemy pushed all thoughts of the two boys from his mind. The last thing he wanted to think about was the mood Queen Olympias would be put in at the news of her son becoming Hephaestion's erastes, or what she would do if she ever found out whose idea it was.


	7. VII

***Apologies for posting this chapter twice, I uploaded it wrong first time..**

**Okay, last chapter! The Confrontation. Thanks so much for your reviews :) Thank you very much to Victoria Alatamir Wan, to S0phea who I hope I haven't driven too crazy, Aebbe who bless her has read this without having watched the film, Gif who has been this story's greatest fan and a wonderful motivational source, and Zophiel Lagace who has been a great source of inspiration.**

**There will only be an epilogue after this, so please for those of you who haven't reviewed, this is your second to last chance to put in a quick word about your thoughts on this story! (Hinting much, I know…)**

Part Seven

Once at the foot of the sloping mountain, Alexander decided to turn right and head towards the palace, travelling back by a different route in case he had missed Hephaestion by a stroke of bad luck. He passed the softly rolling hills that he had explored during his younger years – and in truth still ventured through with Hephaestion on occasion; it was as he reached the last of these slopes that something caught his eye, causing him to pull back on Bucephalus' reigns sharply. Halting fast, Alexander stared up at the closest hill, which was dusted with sand and littered with rocks. Something was moving, walking at a casual pace between the boulders. It looked like a person.

The dark blue chiton and tunic were both like any other, but there was something about the way the figure was walking, slowly with his head bowed to the ground in determination that was very recognisable.

Alexander smiled, and directed Bucephalus off the beaten track, up towards the man. When the slope started rise too steeply for his poor horse, Alexander dismounted and followed on foot; only once within range did he begin to call out to his companion.

Hephaestion turned on the third shout of his name.

"Alexander!" he cried, and skidded over the sandy, unmarked path towards the blond man. "I've been looking for you. When it was obvious you weren't in the palace I thought you'd probably be out among these hills."

"I've been searching everywhere for you! Where is Perros?" Alexander demanded suspiciously.

"I lent him to Perdiccas."

Alexander rolled his eyes at himself; a chuckle burst from his throat.

"Well, you'll be pleased to know that all is well." Alexander sighed, and Hephaestion looked upon him with a curious eye. "I've found a way of putting my mother off for good."

"Oh really?" Hephaestion asked, sounding somewhat impressed but also, Alexander couldn't help but notice, a little wary. "And how do you plan to do that?"

"If you were my eromenos, and I your erastes, then our separation would only bring shame to me, which my mother would not dare do. We would be safe from her schemes."

Alexander did not know what he had expected Hephaestion to reply with, but the empty silence that followed shocked him a little. The blue eyed youth stared at him, mouth agape and breaths quickening. Then he laughed, but the laugh was not the natural, infectious laugh of Hephaestion. It had the faintest trace of hysteria in it.

"Oh, that would be perfect. She cannot keep us separated; we'll just leave her the only option of killing me to get me out of her way." Hephaestion sighed deeply, still grinning that odd, uncharacteristically manic grin.

"No, she wouldn't dare do such a thing!" Alexander cried in alarm. "It's a good idea Hephaestion!" he insisted, and together they sat down side by side on one of the larger boulders, staring out at the palace that lay towards the west. "All we need is to quieten the Queen." It did not go unnoticed by Hephaestion that 'mother' had suddenly become 'Queen'. "My father already acknowledges you as a good soldier; he both likes and values you a great deal."

Then the laugh for the second time rang out loud and clear; Hephaestion stood. He looked almost angry, his cheeks flushing crimson and his eyes blazing.

"Alexander!" he cried in frustration, "You are not blind, _or_ a fool! You know as well as I that the only reason your father approves of me is because were I not the son of someone as important as my father, he'd have been bedded me himself like all the other boys he takes a fancy to."

Alexander felt as if he should defend his father against these accusations, but he did not. Instead he raised his eyebrows, a smile of concern and amusement on his face.

"And you think that I am merely following in my father's footsteps…_bedding_ you for your pretty face? Which, I have to say, looks even more handsome when you're angry. Do you know your eyes look almost purple right now?"

Hephaestion let out a scream of irritation, running his hands through his hair and feeling close to stamping his feet.

"Alexander, be serious! I am nothing but a joke to people!" he shouted. Alexander stood quickly, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Well you're not a joke to me."

They stood for a moment in silence, blue eyes staring into brown.

"An eromenos is recognised as a noble role. Think of Achilles and Patroclus!" Alexander said brightly, his eyes shining with wonder at the mention of his hero. "What on earth is wrong with living a life alike to theirs?"

Hephaestion's eyes glanced towards the floor, humbled by the abruptly majestic tone of Alexander's voice.

"It's still just another way of saying you own me."

"Let any fool who thinks that see it that way. _We_ know the truth." Alexander consoled Hephaestion, reaching out but not quite daring to take the young man's arm.

"And what truth is that?" Hephaestion asked, his expression one of disbelief.

"The truth that I would have no idea what to do with myself if you weren't around to guide me! I've lost count of the mistakes I would have made over these few short years if you hadn't been there to advise me; I love you, and I need you. _That's_ the truth."

Hephaestion turned away, perching delicately on a rock and leaning his face into his palms, his elbows propped on his knees. "You are already a general, Alexander. You lead men into battle; you consult strategies with the king." Hephaestion sighed, hoping his voice did not sound too bitter. "And me? Already you have left me behind, as I always knew one day you would. Once again I'm nothing but a soldier, nothing special. Just the prince's old whore, left to lick his wounds in private."

Alexander's breath rattled dangerously, and he growled as he attempted to tame his fury.

"These are not your words," he spat. "Who has said these things to you? Tell me Hephaestion!"

"Nobody. It doesn't matter."

"It's not true, Hephaestion. You know it isn't. Don't be such a fool as to believe whoever it was that told you this. If you won't tell me that's fine. But I beg you not to listen to cruel and empty words." He reached out to place a hand on the young man's shoulder, but pulled away at the last second for fear of being shrugged off.

He held in his fiery temper, a temper inherited from his mother: explosive, and for the most part uncontrollable. He knew what he had said was partly a lie. It certainly _did _matter that Hephaestion wouldn't tell him; later, he vowed, much later, he would find out who said these things to his beloved and they would pay dearly.

But for now he would have to wait.

Hephaestion blinked slowly, trying to remove the shameful tears from his eyes without letting Alexander know they were there. Was this his destiny…did the gods create him purely to be owned by the Prince of Macedonia? Had he no better purpose in life? Was his greatest achievement truly, as had been said to him what felt like too often to count, to be warming Alexander's bed at night?

"One day I'll be king," Alexander said quietly, sounding suddenly much closer, "and you're going to have to help me or I'll fail. I know I will."

"Alexander," Hephaestion sighed, his eyes prickling uncomfortably. "You can do anything you wish. You did at the age of twelve before we knew one another, and you can do so now."

"But you'll stay with me?"

Hephaestion closed his eyes. This was it, the moment he had once spoken of with Aristotle, the moment that can shape a future; define a man…or destroy him. Though whether his choice would delineate or demolish he knew he may not discover for another decade.

"Yes," he said quietly.

Silence followed and he frowned. But as he started to turn around, the stocky figure of Alexander crashed into him in a tight embrace that sent them hurtling down the slope, rolling over grit and stone, and stinging their limbs with rough grazes.

When they finally came to a halt, Alexander pinned Hephaestion to ground, legs entwined and arms forced out to the sides.

"Good," Alexander said with a cocky grin. Hephaestion smirked, and with little difficulty flipped the blonde boy over so he was pinning Alexander to the ground instead.

"You never could beat me in a wrestle," Hephaestion said arrogantly. Alexander paused for a moment before cocking a suggestive eyebrow and shifting his hips beneath the taller boy.

"_No_," Hephaestion said firmly, and Alexander gave his friend his most innocent and pleading smile. "Your father is looking for you by the way," Hephaestion added as an afterthought, and Alexander shrugged, his expression revealing he cared little for who was looking for him at that precise moment.

"He can wait." There was a pause as Alexander tried to mimic Hephaestion's previous manoeuvre, flipping the darker haired boy onto his back, but Hephaestion held him fast to the ground. "Why not?" Alexander asked when it became clear he wasn't going to succeed.

"Because, Alexander, you are a prince. And as such there are probably several guards within the vicinity that have followed you for your own protection, and can hear and see everything that we say and do."

"So? The guards are there to protect us, not have an opinion on what we do in our spare time…"

"And yet still I say no," Hephaestion said with a smirk and a mocking tone of surprise; Alexander frowned before struggling to reverse their positions again, though unsurprisingly he failed once more. "You are impossible!" Hephaestion cried at his futile efforts.

"I know," Alexander agreed, nodding frankly.

"Okay then…" and Alexander grinned hopefully. "If…" Hephaestion said slowly, teasing Alexander just a little. "You can catch me." Before Alexander had time to react Hephaestion had leapt off the boy and began racing away from him. Shouting wordlessly, Alexander sprang to his feet, bellowing playful curses as he weaved quickly through rocks and boulders after his friend.

And so, the ultimately doomed fates of Achilles and Patroclus forgotten, Alexander chased Hephaestion up, up, up the mountain, their laughter echoing and mingling like chiming bells without a thought for the sharp tongues of snakes or the heavy duties of kings, only the blissful gift of naivety that is only found in youth and love, and how they hoped it would last for an eternity.


	8. VIII

**Firstly, don't ask what Aristotle's first impression of Perdiccas was, that little aspect just happened.**

**Secondly, thank you to all my reviewers again :)**

**Thirdly, these letters are sort of a prequel to another story I'm now writing with the lovely help of **_**Gif**_**, thank you!**

_Epilogue_

_Alexander,_

_Does a mother now have to request letters from her son? I insist that you keep me involved in your plans. Have you completely forgotten the fact that my entire life has been devoted to your happiness, to your success?_

_But of course, how could I forget? You are King now; you have no need for me anymore._

_I noticed that in none of your very few letters of late have you mentioned the foolish boy Hephaestion. I am glad that you have finally managed to see past his pretty blue eyes. It has taken you long enough. _

_I commend you, my son. Now you will be free to rule wisely, your mind unclouded and your decisions not swayed by lesser men's opinions._

_But you shall not reach your full potential without me, Alexander. You know that you need me, and yet you ignore me. Tell me your plans, and I will advise you. Tell only me, I am the only one you can truly trust. You cannot know who wants you to succeed, and who wants you only for their own personal gain. But I can see, and I can advise, and I love you like no mother has loved their child before._

_I insist that you write to me._

_With dearest love and affection, your mother_

_

* * *

To Hephaestion son of Amyntor,_

_It is with regret that I must inform you that your last letter did nothing to convince me that all is well, and that you are the same Hephaestion who left to follow Alexander so many years ago._

_Though I do commend your efforts, it is clear you tried very hard to appear cheerful. However, that said, I would much rather you tell me the truth of your situation._

_It did not go unnoticed by myself that that in your last letter you said not a single thing about Alexander, nor did you complain or even so much as mention the eunuch who has become an object of the king's fascination. The only conclusion I can draw is that they are the cause of your unhappiness._

_Why would it concern you, Hephaestion? After all the trouble you went through in your younger years, do you think Alexander could forget you? Are you sure these worries are not merely the same notions you had as a younger man, the notions that, if I recall correctly, both you and Alexander were able to dismiss with such ease?_

_Have you even spoken to him? You are a fool, Hephaestion, if you are still imagining obstacles coming between yourself and the king without saying a word to him._

_Though I don't mean to push you. I know all too well that you are stubborn enough to simply stop reading and refuse to reply if I go on for too long._

_Moving on, as I've said many a time to you, you'd do well not to listen to Perdiccas. He's got you into enough trouble over the years. I've heard it claimed that increased age coincides with increased wisdom. In Perdiccas' case, however, I would most definitely state otherwise. Not that I mean to slander your friend, of course, he is a good man and according to you a good solider as well. First impressions are apparently hard to forget._

_And I refuse to comment on your ongoing argument with Craterus. You are both grown men acting like children. And I know very well that you start as many of the incidents as he does, so do not play the innocent victim with me. That may work on Alexander, but it doesn't work on me._

_I'll take my leave here, and I expect a full explanation from you in your next letter, no cryptic avoiding of the real problem; you know how it bores me._

_Your friend, Aristotle_


End file.
